Chiggers Are Assholes

Pictured: Asshole.

So I did something this past weekend that I normally don’t do: I went on a nature walk.

I normally don’t do that sort of thing because I–like every member of my generation–am addicted to the Internet, and while I can access it on my smartphone, it’s pretty difficult to open fifteen different tabs on the Android browser.

There’s also the horrible Tennessee summertime heat and humidity that make going down the street for a tea a trial. Seriously, it’s close to Houston in terms of ungodliness. The heat index yesterday, for example, was 115 in Houston. It was 105 in Nashville. That’s insane. That’s actually–and I’m serious–enough heat and humidity for a person to boil an egg on the street and sweat enough to not have to go to a sauna. Ever. You will never have to go to a sauna because all of the sweat you will ever have in your life will drip out of you in the short time you’re outside.

And then there are the bugs.

I’ve heard that deeper in the South, the bugs are worse, but considering the size and amount of bugs in Tennessee, I have no desire to go south of Nashville. I’ve seen mosquitoes so big you’ll think you’re stuck in the Jurassic period. I’ve seen mosquito hawks–you know, those big fuckers that get stuck in your house and keep bumping into the ceiling because they can’t do anything else–the size of helicopters.

But those aren’t the bugs I want to talk about today. I want to talk about the supreme assholes in the insect kingdom (family?): Chiggers.

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